He wants to film you masturbating

"I think we should film a...a scene where you play with yourself," he motions to the bed he's sitting on. "Why don't you get back in the shower and I'll film you in there and then you can come out to the bed and something turns you on, so you start touching yourself."

You muss up his white hair. "I like it. Maybe I could, like, smell some of your aftershave or something on a shirt. Put a shirt on the bed and I can act like it really turns me on."

"The gals used to go wild for my Old Spice," he laughs and stands up. "I'll do like you said. You go on back in the bathroom and wait for me to open the door."

You giggle and go bouncing back into the bathroom. It's still all fogged up from your shower, but that's fine. You lose the towels and turn the shower back on, stepping into the stall but leaving the shower door open as the water cascades down your voluptuous teenage body.

Soon the door is opened and you see out of the corner your eye that Mr. Goreman is standing there holding the video camera up to his eye level as he films you. You squirt some liquid soap in your hands and work up a lather on your breasts, really getting them all sudsy and slippery as you squeeze them and pluck at your nipples. Mr. Goreman comes closer to get a better view through the steamy bathroom.

You're turned on by the camera and you move almost like you're dancing, running your hands all over your soapy body, turning and bending so that your ass is pushed out at the camera and Mr. Goreman has a great view of your swollen pussy and your tight pink hole. A soapy waterfall drops from your heart-shaped cheeks to the shower floor as you finish washing off the suds. When you're clean again you step out and wrap yourself back up in the towel.

Mr. Goreman backs out of the bathroom ahead of you, struggling a little to hold the camera steady, and he leads you to the bed, motioning out of sight of the camera at the dress shirt he has laid next to the pillow. You take your time coming over to the bed, running your fingers over various nicknacks the old retiree has set out on his dresser. You reach the bed and fall on your hands and knees, the towel slipping open as you crawl like a kitten over to his shirt. You fold your legs beneath your ass, revealed by the immodest hem of the towel, and sit beside the pillows. The shirt is doused in Old Spice cologne. Not your favorite, but you're acting for Mr. Goreman and his camera, so you hold the shirt against your face and inhale deeply, rubbing the soft cotton against your cheek.

You pretend to search the room for anyone watching, then roll onto your back. The towel falls open, revealing the soft mountains of your breasts as the cloth slips away. Your nipples are hard. You part your creamy thighs giving Mr. Goreman a dead-on shot of your neatly trimmed little pussy. As you hold the shirt to your face and take a few more sniffs your fingers glide down between your thighs and begin stroking your swollen mound.

The shirt is soon forgotten as you diddle your little clit and plunge a finger into the warm honey of your slit. You grip your breast and play with your nipple. Mr. Goreman moves around you as you finger yourself and the camera is really turning you on. You cum very quickly, scissoring your thighs around your hand as your clit explodes. You can feel your inner walls fluttering around your fingers and you throw back your head and moan.

As you come down Mr. Goreman doesn't tell you to stop, so you roll onto your stomach, head down, ass up, and you hook two fingers into your dripping cunny and roll your hips as you finger fuck yourself. The room is filled with the sounds of your breathing, the soft slush of your fingers in and out of your pussy, and your moans of pleasure. You finally come again, crying out, "Grandpa, oh grandpa, fuck me!" You get off imagining some old timer watching your porno video.

At last your draw your juicy fingers from your creamy cunt and bring them up to your mouth, licking and sucking the fingers. You finally look directly into the camera and ask Mr. Goreman, "How was that?"

"Amazing," says Mr. Goreman, snapping the LCD closed on the camera.

"What do you want me to do next?" you ask, still sprawled naked on his bed, one knee bent, a flush across your cheeks, your nipples hard as little thimbles.